


The Warrior's Heart

by Lady_Therion



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Mating Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion
Summary: Never get between a male and his mate.
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 12
Kudos: 194





	The Warrior's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Got a couple of prompts for jealous Cassian. Here you go, you thirsty fae.

Nesta didn’t expect such...intensity.

Nothing could have prepared her for it. Feyre tried to explain what it was like. Cassian had filled in the rest. But even then, the experience of bonding was indescribable. To say that it was all-consuming wouldn’t have done it justice: it was desire at its most primal and love at its most sanctified.

Their bond was not heralded by fireworks and fanfare. Rather, it was like an ember that kindled into something more brilliant over time. “ _I want to do this right_ ,” said Cassian. “ _I want you to choose me because you want to_.” So he courted her. And here, she thought courtships were a thing of the past, and that chivalry only existed between the pages of a book.

They won each other by inches. First, she allowed him into her heart, so that his fire warmed her. Then, she allowed him into her mind, so that the presence of his thoughts banished all her fears of being alone. Finally, she joined her body with his...and all that lay between them ignited beneath the stars.

They kept each other in bed for several days after that soul-deep tether snapped taut.

Nesta set the pace. Their bodies hot, flush, and _frantic_ as she rode her love with abandon. Their arousal was a heady thing; the scent of each other driving them mad with want. Each time they crested toward euphoric heights, their yearning would send them tumbling down. Cassian’s headboard (as well as the wall behind that headboard) bore the brunt of it all. She would have to use magic to repair the cracks later.

“No. Leave them there,” he said, panting as he drew her against him, twining around her sweat-soaked body like an overgrown plains-cat. The heat between them had banked itself for now. Even so, Nesta could feel it building, gathering more timber. 

“Something to remember me by?” she teased. _Gods she wanted him so much. How was it possible to want another person this much?_

He grinned, canines showing. “Something like that.” 

“How romantic,” she said.

Talking ceased soon after, as Cassian’s fingers began to explore more interesting places and Nesta’s spells restored some of their flagging stamina. 

* * *

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Nesta desperately wanted to say something clever, but all she could think of at the moment was the ache between her thighs. An ache that her mate was enthusiastically tending to. 

She had lost count of the hours she had spent with her legs thrown over his shoulders, him bucking against a particular spot that had her mewling nonsensical praise; things Cassian would certainly taunt her for later. Fortunately, he was too overwhelmed by his feelings—the ones that urged him to _please_ her, to worship her, to make their coupling so good that the scent of them would never leave the sheets. 

If the bond was good for anything, Nesta thought, it was knowing all his secret desires without having to ask. Because he shared them with her. Such trust and vulnerability was something to behold. It humbled her, enthralled her. 

And she made sure he knew this too. 

He stiffened when he came, head thrown back in ecstasy, then collapsed against her when she followed. She could feel his harsh breathing against her neck, and later, his tongue as he soothed the claiming marks he put there.

He had an identical set on his own neck. One that she traced with reverence. Not every bonded pair chose to signify their union with marks, but they had wanted it. It suited them. Beyond honoring an ancient fae tradition, it was physical proof of their devotion to one another. 

“My heart,” he called her. 

Nesta stilled. In Illyria, to be called someone’s heart was love at its very essence. For how could a warrior draw breath without their heart?

“I think I like that much better than Nes.” 

He laughed, then kissed her. The sweetest press of his lips that did not speak of lust or hunger, but brilliant shades of adoration. It took her a moment to realize that all the bright joy flooding through her was not just her own. It was his too. 

“My heart,” she whispered, and his answering smile was like the rising of the dawn.

* * *

Emerie arrived a few days after that. Or rather, a messenger of hers did. 

Nesta met him just outside Cassian’s holdings.

It was just as well; the searing blaze of their frenzy had cooled to a more bearable degree. They woke that morning with clearer heads, realizing they had stumbled onto the floor of his hearth room some time in the night, sprawled against thick fur rugs.

“ _Hard part’s over_ ,” he said, drawing a line down her bare back. 

“I _s it?_ ” she mused, her hand following the trail of hair beneath his navel. “ _I think I may have found evidence that says otherwise._ ” 

He hummed as her kisses followed her hand. She did it slowly this time, wanting to slake her thirst for him, but savor him all the while. “ _The fever may be over, but our instincts will still run deep._ ”

Nesta fought to keep the memory of what she did when he said the word “deep” at bay as she greeted Emerie’s messenger. He was a young boy, or young by fae standards. Whatever his age, he looked to be on the cusp of manhood. According to Emerie, the boy had no clan and was a bastard to boot. So she had taken him in and given him work, which he preferred to recruitment into the fighting corps. His name was Hector and while he was a pure Illyrian by blood, his extremely gentle nature was...an oddity among his people. An oddity that made the males in his village clip his wings. Yet somehow, despite the atrocities that happened to him, his gentleness remained intact. Nesta hoped it would always remain that way.

“Lady Nesta,” he said. “Emerie sends her regards...and her congratulations.” Then he gifted her with a generous basket of supplies. Food mostly, and salves. It wise of her friend to send Hector in her stead, Nesta decided. If Emerie herself showed, Nesta would have succumbed to the more beastly, territorial impulses that plagued her. The ones that whispered at her, even now, to watch for _interlopers._ Ones who could steal her away from her mate, or vice versa. The bond thrummed at this, a discordant note in the song that rang between them. 

Apparently, it was enough to wake Cassian, who stirred in bed to reach for her...only to find that she was not there. She could see him in her mind’s eye: the way his nostrils flared, searching for her scent, the way alarm struck him like lightning when he realized that she was not inside. **_Where is she?_ ** his own territorial impulses screamed. **_Who has taken his heart?_ **

“Hector,” she said hurriedly. “You should go.” 

“Is everything all ri—?” 

There was a rumbling in the earth. One that Nesta knew intimately. She was as familiar with Cassian’s presence and power as she was with her own, and right now, it was unleashed. Furious. Beyond furious. He appeared before them in an instant, blazing like a red star and singeing the field grass beneath them. He was half dressed, his hair loose and drifting in the spring wind. He wore no Siphons, which meant that should he lose control, his entire holding could crumble into ash. 

“Peace, beloved,” she warned, in the words of his own language. 

This was the uglier side of the bond, he told her. And it affected more males than it did females. She could see why it frightened him, even shamed him. Though she and Hector hardly said a word to each other, had barely even touched, Cassian was honing in on the poor boy as though he was ready rend him apart for the presumption of being near her. Her mate’s eyes had turned dark and murderous as he made a strong showing of teeth. He was utterly unrecognizable to her.

“Stay away from my heart.” His words were cold, guttural. Not unlike the night when she told him about Tomas. She remembered how easily he vowed to break another man’s bones to avenge her, and he barely even knew her then. 

She stood between them.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” said Hector, visibly shaking at the centuries-old warrior whose prowess for bloodshed was well known even in the far reaches of the Continent. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean—” 

“Hector, go.” 

The boy didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and ran and the sight of it triggered something else in Cassian: the instinct to hunt down, to capture, to bring his mate a trophy. _No,_ thought Nesta. She would have none of that. 

One boom of his wings had Cassian soaring. Nesta’s magic surged within her, making her eyes light with silver-white fire. With a clenched fist she raised a hand to the sky, and wrenched her mate down by force. He struggled against her at first, not wanting his quarry to get away, to get the better of him. All around them, the air crackled with the coming of a preternatural storm that hadn’t been there before. 

_Let me go, Nesta!_

_Never_ , she said through their bond. _You once told me you had no regrets in this life, save one. I will not let you add another._

That appeared to ease him; to pierce through that raging fog that possessed his better judgment. And when he was before her once more, she embraced him. She soothed him as only mates could, with thoughts and words and a deep, abiding love—and a hard and vigorous bite against his neck; a reprimand from his mate that made him shudder violently with relief. 

“Peace, beloved,” she said, nuzzling at him until he purred. “Your heart is here.” 

* * *

She let him take her; rough and greedy. Just as he liked. Just as she wanted. As it turned out, his misguided anger at Hector had not entirely dissipated. Instead, it transmuted into an even fiercer urge to claim and protect. It coursed through him like a molten inferno and all Nesta could do was lose herself to it.

Cassian bent her over his bed, drawing her legs up and spreading them, murmuring apologies for his behavior against the wet, glistening folds of her sex. He displeased his mate; distressed her. And no matter how much Nesta assured him otherwise, her General-Commander was intent on atonement. Only when she clenched around his expert fingers a third time did he slide his hard cock into her liquid heat. He drove into her at this carnal angle, letting her roll and arch against him on her hands and knees. 

“Nesta,” he said, over and over. Like a prayer. Like a benediction.

 _I’m here,_ she reassured him. _I’m here_. 

This time when they came, they came together. The rapture of it splitting them apart until it tore ragged cries from them both. 

They held one another long into the night. 

And as the fire died down, and the moon rose high, their hearts beat as one. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, loves. I am lady-therion on tumblr.


End file.
